Knock, Knock! Who's There?

“Think about it. Let’s talk about it tomorrow. I’ve still got to get the money.”

“Where have you hidden it?”

He smiled at her.

“Where they won’t think of looking for it.”

“Isn’t it dangerous to go back for it?”

“Yes… it’s a hell of a risk.”

“But I could get it, couldn’t I? They don’t know me.”

A tiny red light of warning lit up in Johnny’s mind. Suppose he told her where the money was? Suppose he gave her the locker key? She could hire a car and drive to East City, take the two bags, load them into the car and that would be the last time he would ever see her. How can anyone trust anyone when there was so much money involved? She said she loved him: she had said it in such a way that he believed her, but when she dragged those two heavy bags out of the locker might she not be tempted to betray him?

He remembered what she had said: You’re not much to look at. He wasn’t. He was fourteen years older than she. With all that money, with her looks, she could make a wonderful life for herself without having a short, heavily-built man of forty-two in her hair.

The sound of the approaching truck saved him from answering.

“Here’s Ed. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Yes.

She got up and went hastily into the kitchen.

Scott had his swim, admired the bass Johnny had caught, then came out on deck, joining Johnny while Freda cooked the dinner.

“Had a good day?” Scott asked, lighting a cigarette. He looked slyly at Johnny.

“Fine. And you?”

“The usual.” Scott flicked ash into the lake. “Did she give out?”

Johnny stiffened.

“Come again?”

“Did you lay her?”

“Look, Ed, cut that talk out! I don’t like it. She’s your wife! Haven’t you any respect for her?”

Scott gave a sneering laugh.

“I told you I couldn’t care less. I was just curious to know if you made it.”

“Like I said… cut it out!”

Scott eyed him.

“Maybe you like it fancy. I do. If ever you want something fancy come to Richville with me. I know a couple of chicks…”

“I’m a lot older than you, Ed. You look after your sex life and I’ll look after mine. Okay?”

Scott studied him, then shrugged.

“Yeah. I guess when I get as old as you, it won’t be a problem.” He gave a sly grin. “I bet Freda’s disappointed. I get the idea she’s itching for it.”

“Then why don’t you give it to her?” Johnny tried to soften his voice, but his anger showed.

“She’s not my style.”

Johnny suddenly hated this man as he had seldom hated any man. He got to his feet as Freda came on to the deck.

“You can eat,” she said.

It was while they were finishing the bass that Scott said, “You got a younger brother, Johnny?”

Johnny became instantly alert. He paused to finish the last morsel of fish on his plate, then shook his head.

“I’ve no relations.”

“Just an idea.” Scott pushed aside his plate. “There’s an odd ad. in the Richville Times. I have it here.” He shoved back his chair and crossing to where he had left his jacket, he took out a folded newspaper.

Johnny and Freda exchanged quick glances as Scott put the paper in front of Johnny.

“What do you think of that… ten thousand dollars!”

Johnny pretended to read the letterpress, shrugged and reached for a cigarette.

“Funny thing,” Scott went on. “I looked up suddenly just now and you seem to resemble this photograph. I wondered if it could be a young brother.”

“Never had a brother,” Johnny said.

Scott passed the newspaper to Freda.

“Don’t you think this guy looks like Johnny?” Freda glanced at the photograph.

“Maybe.” Her voice was casual. “You can’t say Johnny is exactly an oil painting, can you?” and getting up, she began to collect the plates. Johnny helped her while Scott continued to stare at the photograph.

Out in the kitchen, Freda washed up while Johnny dried. They didn’t speak, but both were aware of tension.

Returning to the living-room, they found Scott still staring at the ad. Freda went out on deck and as Johnny followed her, Scott said, “Funny sort of ad., isn’t it?”

Johnny paused and came back to the table. He sat down.

“It sure is.”

“What do you imagine the idea is offering all this money for a guy who’s lost his memory?”

“Rich parents, I guess… anxious to find him.” Scott studied the photograph.

“Doesn’t look as if he comes from rich parents, does he?” He glanced at Johnny. “Bit on the rough side… like you and me.” “Yeah.”

“Ten thousand dollars! If I had all that money I’d buy me three more trucks and I’d really be in the business.” Scott’s face lit up. “Finding drivers is easy, but getting the capital for trucks is something else.”

“Ever thought of doubling your turn-over without buying more trucks?” Johnny asked, anxious to get Scott’s mind off the ad.

“How?”

“You deliver crates of shrimps to Richville… right?”

“So?”

“But you come back empty. Can’t you get freight from Richville to bring back to New Symara?”

“Do you imagine I haven’t thought of that?” Scott said scornfully. “You go out and sniff the truck. It stinks of shrimps. No one wants haulage that stinks that bad. I’ve tried, and anyway, there’s nothing in Richville that New Symara wants.”

“Just an idea.” Johnny got to his feet. “I guess I’ll turn in. See you.”

Scott nodded.

Johnny left him still staring at the ad.

Lying in his little bed, watching the moon while he thought, Johnny wasn’t ready for sleep. He thought of Freda. Suppose he could trust her? She would be safe going to the Greyhound bus station and getting the money. But could he trust her? Then his mind switched to Scott. Had he convinced him that he had no connection with the ad?

He closed his eyes, trying to force himself to sleep. Then he became alert. He heard Freda enter her room. What a woman! His mind dwelt on the three times they had made love and he had the urge to leave his bed and go into her room and take her again.

Then a slight sound made him stiffen. His door was gently opening. He lay still, his hand reaching under his pillow for his gun.

The moonlight coming through the open window shone directly on the door and through half closed eyes he saw Scott was looking at him through the half-open door.

Johnny emitted a soft snore, watching Scott who stood there, still, listening. Johnny snored again and the door closed silently.

What did this mean? He asked himself, now fully awake. He listened. He heard Freda’s door open,

“Come out on deck.” Scott’s whisper came clearly to Johnny. “Don’t say anything… he’s asleep.”